Thoughts Of Redemption
by samus18
Summary: Pterano's thoughts after Ducky had fallen through the hole in the 7th movie. I might include chapters for Rinkus and Sierra as well.
1. Pterano

Pterano

He didn't know what he had been thinking, recruiting the help of Rinkus and Sierra to aid him in finding the stone. It seemed like a good idea at the time - but then, so did many of his other past ideas.

He wondered (not for the first time since meeting the two) if involving them in his plan might not truly have been a bad idea. Something about them rubbed him the wrong way, even if he refused to admit it to himself. Rinkus may have been the submissive type, but that didn't mean his motives were pure. As for Sierra...

Pterano clenched his fist, recalling how carelessly Sierra had tried to snatch Ducky in his teeth and talons; the callous way he had reacted to her demise. Pterano certainly did not mean for anyone to get hurt. _Certainly_ he didn't intend to get anyone killed...

He cast one last regretful look at the hole Ducky had fallen through. Lingering on the promontory a moment longer - perhaps in the false hope that she might still emerge - he spread his massive wings and took off.

His heart was heavy as he dolefully followed after his comrades. Not even a full day into his quest and already things were going wrong.

'If only I had caught up to her. If only Sierra -" He shook himself free of the thought. He had seen the way Sierra treated Ducky, and some part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was better that she had fallen through that hole. He didn't know if she had survived the drop. He hoped she had...but either way, perhaps it was better for her to perish in a fall than to perish at the claws of an enemy. In the heat of things, he knew he couldn't guarantee Sierra's civil treatment of her.

'Yes...' he thought forlornly. 'Better this way...better for her...'

Below him, the river rushed and rolled in a powerful din of noise and foam. The wind tunnels flowing through the canyon were cool, and provided wonderful lift. Pterano was thankful for the chance to glide and rest his wings on the breeze. He was emotionally and physically taxed. Spotting two forms ahead of him, one brown and one pink, he gave several powerful flaps of his wings to catch up to them. He was, after all, the leader. He should be the one flying in front. It didn't take him long to catch up; he rushed past them in a gust of wind.

"Don't forget just who is in _charge_ of this expedition," he shot at them with a scowl. He didn't bother to observe their reaction, but could almost feel Sierra's glower boring into his back.

He shook off a shudder that threatened to run down his spine. 'No matter,' he thought, turning his focus back to matters concerning the stone. 'Once I reach that stone, its power will be mine. Then nothing and _no_ _one_ will stand in my way.'

It was thoughts like these that kept him going. The notion of obtaining such power made it worth every sacrifice Pterano had made to undertake this expedition. He knew it would all be repaid to him doubly. Sneaking into the Great Valley among the Far Walkers to creep under the noses of those who would recognize him, having to flee the Valley at a moment's notice with a captive in tow, putting up with Rinkus and Sierra, even...yes, even the loss of Ducky would be redeemed once he found what he was looking for - what was destined to be _his_.

He could see the awe and admiration on their faces, could almost feel the adoration seeping from his audience as he performed amazing feats with his new-found powers - feats that would benefit one and all. And the doubters, the naysayers...they would all be sorry. Even old Threehorn would regret ever having thought ill of him. He would lead them into a golden age, the likes of which the Valley had never seen, and then the doubters would change their tune, to be sure.

Young Petrie would look up to him with twice the admiration he had. Even his sister would change her mind about him. She would come to realize that her brother had been right all along, that his childhood dreams were indeed much more than mere fantasy. He would make her proud. He would make the whole family proud - even father, were he still alive.

Pterano shook his head. Thoughts of his father were painful, and he usually refrained from thinking of him, if he could help it.

Again, it didn't matter. Things would change soon. Before long, he would finally be the kind of Flyer his father always spoke of in the stories he used to tell him and his siblings at bedtime. Pterano's siblings never held on to those tales. They had faded from their hearts as they got older - but he knew better. There was a power to be had, and it was his destiny to claim it.

With his heart much more hopeful than it was when he took off, Pterano set his determination on reaching Threehorn Peak, where lied his future, his destiny, and his redemption.

A/N: Sorry it's so short. I probably could have gone on longer if I'd let myself. Maybe I will make a longer version. I'm thinking about adding two more for Rinkus and Sierra as well. Hope you like!


	2. Rinkus

Rinkus

He had been hesitant to take up with Pterano when the large, tan Flyer had expressed interest in his assistance.

Pterano was self-serving, that much was obvious from the get-go. Rinkus may not have initially been a big fan of him, but he _was_ attracted to the idea of gaining a position of leadership over other saurians.

He had decided to fly into the Valley with Pterano, biding his time at least until he decided for sure if he really wanted to follow the ambitious Flyer. They had picked up another, as well - a very ill-tempered brown Flyer by the name of Sierra.

It wasn't long before talk about a "stone of cold fire" began circling around. Everyone in the Valley began gossiping about it, and it was from such rumors that Pterano delivered news to him and Sierra that this stone could grant incredible powers. That was enough for Rinkus. He decided that he would put up with Pterano's egocentricity and abuse for as long as it took them to find this stone.

He wasn't too sure about Sierra, though - who had already proven on more than one occasion to be the explosive type. Rinkus wasn't sure what the outcome of this odd affiliation and chancy quest would be - whether they would find the stone or not, nor even what would happen if they did.

And now they find themselves standing on the edge of a cliff, fleeing from potential pursuers - and with a young Swimmer to boot. Whether it had been a good idea to abduct the young one or not, Rinkus didn't bother to speculate. He was content letting Pterano call the shots (for now, at least) and had little choice at the time but to go along with their spontaneous change of plan. He didn't know what Pterano planned on doing with her once they were well out of the Valley. But as it turned out, they were relieved of the swimmer sooner than they anticipated.

Rinkus felt little-to-no remorse for the young one. She had been a nuisance, even as much as her presence might have been useful in keeping the Valley's residents at bay. But, as he had pointed out to his comrades, they weren't being followed. They didn't need the hyper hatchling anymore.

Pterano was clearly sorry for the loss, but Sierra didn't give it a second thought. Neither did he, as he left the canyon - and their troublesome guest - behind.

Hatchlings were lost all the time, he reflected as he flew alongside Sierra. He remembered his mother telling him that loss was a part of the great circle of life.

Visions of home life flitted through his memory as quick as the wind. The sound of a dozen little babbling voices, the flapping of tiny bright wings, a weary-looking mother who had long tuned out the cries of her children. Tiny claws reaching out to grasp a much larger tail in the hopes of gaining a few moments of attention.

Attention...yes, that was something Rinkus had greatly lacked his entire life. Having grown up with so many siblings vying for it from a careworn mother, a large part of him was used to falling in between cracks, slipping into the shadows, or simply being resigned to the fact that there was not enough affection to go around. But there was another part of him that desired to gain recognition and notoriety. To taste it just once, to experience what it would be like to have the attention of not just dozens, but hundreds...

He inhaled a deep breath of cool air, keeping his gaze focused on the horizon. He and Sierra flew alongside each other without so much as a word. Perhaps Sierra was engaged in his own thoughts, as well. Perhaps he was planning on what he would do with his new-found powers, if he got them. Rinkus gulped. He hadn't thought of what might happen, should Sierra try to take control of it. He knew he was no match for the brown Flyer, strength-wise.

'First, we must _find_ the stone,' he thought, resolved to take this quest one step at a time.

As for what _he_ would do with the powers, if the stone proved so kind as to grant them to him, he couldn't say. His thoughts hadn't traveled that far down the road. Even so, he remained hopeful that it could possibly be the answer to all his life problems. He had to find out, at any rate. Hope spurned him onward, even regardless of the obstacles they had faced, and would undoubtedly face in the near future.

He cast a nervous glance at Sierra. The brown Flyer's face was set in a perpetual scowl. He seemed passionately bent on reaching the stone, at all cost. For a moment, Rinkus couldn't help but wonder what drove Sierra so powerfully on toward the prospect of power. He looked the other way, seeing no sign of Pterano. He supposed the oaf was still dawdling on the cliff back there, mourning over the little burden.

Not giving his would-be leader another thought, he entertained himself with thoughts of what he would do, once he received the stone's powers. Not a Flyer, nor any other saurian around, wouldn't heed to his command. All eyes would be on him, for the first time in his life. His heart flitted with excitement as he imagined what his siblings would think of him - their small, neglected pink brother wielding tremendous power and receiving admiration from dinosaurs everywhere. He was almost giddy with the thought. 'They won't see that coming, will they?' he thought with a slight grin.

This was his only chance to stand out, to be someone. All he had ever been was a nuisance himself, a runt, someone who was of little use to anyone. But no more. Things change, and Rinkus could practically feel the change about to take place in his life. It gave flight to his wings, and hope in his eyes.

Every gust of wind brought him closer to power, to fame...To being someone.

A/N: This one might have turned out different than I expected. XD That's what happens when you write without a plan, haha. I thought of making this more of a speculation as to why Rinkus is the way he is, what could make him thirst after power so much. None of that was explored with the Flying Trio in the movie, so there's lots of room for speculation. I might try Sierra next, although he's gonna be a tough one to speculate on... o_o


	3. Sierra

Sierra

The quest couldn't end soon enough.

Sierra had been flying all throughout the night with that runt in his claws - tired enough, but still with plenty of strength to go on - until they were able to land without trouble (too much trouble anyway.) He had lost his tempter with the young one, and Pterano - ever the soft-hearted fool - had to intervene. Even so, they'd lost their captive in trying to recapture her.

Whether this was a true loss on their part or not remained to be seen, but Sierra didn't care either way. He had had about enough of that provoking brat. Good riddance, he says.

The whole journey had been one aggravating blunder after another. The fact that their "leader" felt the need to linger over that sorry Swimmer's demise didn't help.

Without another thought, Sierra spread his wings and took off from the cliff. A soft rush of wind told him that Rinkus was close behind.

How could Pterano waste another second dwelling on that little varmint? It was pointless, and foolish. What good had the runt been, save in keeping the others away? She probably hadn't even done that much. Sierra might not have been very family-oriented, but even he knew the odds that someone (be it family or friends) was coming after the Swimmer were good. What made _her_ so important, so precious?

Well, if she had indeed vanished in the drop, they'd be in for a surprise.

It wasn't as if anyone would have come after him, if _he_ had been the hatchling who was kidnapped. He was no good; a sorry excuse for a Flyer. He wasn't strong or impressive enough to be worth anyone's attention. Without realizing it, he had echoed the long-ago words of his father.

He gritted his serrated teeth in pure rage, beneath which lied a very subtle hint of turmoil, too small to speak of. His glower turned into a wicked grin as he recalled the evening he first learned that his father wasn't coming back. No one asked why; no one needed to.

He and his family had lived in the Mysterious Beyond their entire lives. There were many ways a Flyer could die, of course - but Sharpteeth remained the most common cause of fatality, whether one was a swift Flyer or a lumbering Threehorn.

It was unusual for Sierra to glide down that particular avenue of memory lane. Since his father had disappeared from his life, it had been he who cared for himself and his siblings. Thoughts of barren wastelands, scorching sunsets, droughts and famine briefly scoured the Flyer's mind. Having to find food for his brothers and sisters when there was barely enough for himself. The long hours spent flying to what seemed the very ends of the earth in search of sustenance, the ache in his wings when he thought he could go no further. And all the while his father's abuse filtering through his mind, and into his heart, shaping them into the contorted things they were today.

Then came the day that he decided to fly alone, and for good. He had abandoned his brothers and sisters entirely to some unknown fate, and had vowed to leave any and all memory of his father and the hard years spent trying to survive in the dust; to never look back.

Yes, he had left his father in the past and intended to leave him there for good. But he could not leave the harshness, the cruelty...the notion of having never been wanted.

None of that mattered. The important thing at hand was to find the stone of cold fire, and Sierra had virtually no doubts about his being able to claim it, once found. Pterano might prove to be a problem, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He would find a way to overthrow that boastful moron, and claim that which would grant him the pleasures and riches he had never known as a hatchling. All those years of hardship, back-breaking labor, scraping to survive, and for _what?_ Cold, cruel memories and an entire youth wasted.

But no more.

He was still in his prime. It wasn't too late for him to achieve this mysterious power said to emanate from the stone.

Whatever that may mean, nothing and _no one_ would get in his way; especially not Pterano. He had worked too long and too hard, and faced too many trials in his life to let any obstacles - saurian or otherwise - stand in his way. It wasn't easy being patient. He was a Flyer who preferred action over words. But patience, just a little, was necessary if he was to reach his goal.

Never again would he have to work himself within an inch of his life just to survive. Never again would he spend day-long journeys in search of food and water, feeling the sun beat down on his exhausted wings.

Never again would he be reminded of his father's rigid words - not once he wielded that power. Then, and _only_ then, would those brutal insults and abuse be put to rest.

He knew he was not an inferior Flyer. He was strong, fierce, ambitious, and aggressive. His father had taught him how to fight, how to be dominant, and survive - possibly the only useful traits he had passed down to his son.

Why, then, was nothing he did ever good enough for him?

He mentally shook himself. He wasn't the type to dwell on thought and memory, if it could be helped. And anyway, it wouldn't be much longer before they reached the stone. He beat his wings all the faster, desiring more than anything to reach the summit of Threehorn Peak. He would come out on top, they would see.  
He would be the one giving orders, the one everyone feared, obeyed, and respected.

The wasted years would be redeemed.

A/N: Needless to say, Sierra was a huge challenge! During the thought process, I was continuously torn between trying to decide if Sierra turned out so cruel because his father was abusive, or because his father (or parents, rather) might have died when Sierra was very young. So I went for both.


End file.
